


too quick, mumbled into his scarf.

by bittertofu



Series: thirty-five ways he said 'i love you.' [29]
Category: Persona 5
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-12
Updated: 2017-06-12
Packaged: 2018-11-13 11:16:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11183991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bittertofu/pseuds/bittertofu
Summary: It's a date.





	too quick, mumbled into his scarf.

**Author's Note:**

> All Through the Night by Sleeping at Last: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Tf4arzZXEiA

It was the first time Akira asked to hold his hand, and the first time Akechi would say yes. Even though they were in public, there was no one really around (the park was relatively empty, even for winter), so Akechi didn't see the problem in granting Akira this one small request. Besides, he'd be lying to himself if he said he didn't want to be connected to Akira, too. There wasn't much time left to them, after all.

Akira's hand was warm, even through Akechi's glove. Made sense, since he was all bundled up in a jacket, scarf, and little hat. He looked a little silly, and just a little cute, with his red cheeks and nose peeking over the scarf and from beneath his curls. Akechi was a little less bundled up. It wasn't that he didn't mind the cold—he felt it with an ache that crawled under his skin—but more that he didn't really mind the particular brand of pain. It kept him alert, reminded him where he was and what he was doing. It felt especially critical to be keen and aware now, when walking side-by-side with Akira Kurusu.

For the better part of an hour they'd been wandering aimlessly, kicking along in the dusting of snow over the ground and leaving faint footprints trailing behind them (footprints so close together they were obviously that of a couple...a couple...). Silence hung between them, but it wasn't heavy; more companionable than anything else. It put Akechi at ease, the feel of Akira's fingers laced with his, and the steady sound of Akira breathing beside him. His own heartbeat reverberated in his ears, but for once, it didn't vex him. If anything, he even enjoyed the sensation, if only a little. It was, to say the least, exhilarating. So he held on to it, and tried to think of it as a thing to be cherished, a thing to be remembered when they could no longer be together as now.

Akechi was quite lost in his own thoughts when Akira suddenly stopped, causing Akechi to bump into his shoulder. Akechi looked to Akira, head tilted in question, and noticed Akira's downcast, pensive look.

“Is...everything alright?”

By the furrow of Akira's brow, Akechi could only assume he frowned. Anxiety coiled tight in his stomach. He tried to pull his hand out of Akira's, but Akira gripped him tighter and shook his head. He froze Akechi in place with his eyes, something like longing, something like sadness in them.

“Goro,” Akira began, and then stopped. He stared at his feet a moment, apparently trying to piece together exactly what it was he wanted to say.

Akechi knew that feeling all too well. Still, Akira was never someone he expected to be at a loss for words. Akechi shifted uncomfortably, tugging lightly at his hand but not being able to break free. It seemed that every time he tried, Akira was determined to hold on tighter and tighter.

Finally, after a full excruciating minute, Akira mumbled quick and low into his scarf. Akechi blinked, leaned a bit forward.

“What was that?”

“I don't want you to go,” Akira said, loud enough this time for Akechi to hear. He sighed, used his free hand to twist a strand of his bangs between his fingers.

Akechi's throat tightened. He knew they had to talk about this sometime, but he still didn't feel ready for it. Perhaps he never would have been, no matter when it came up. He smiled a little weakly, took Akira's other hand, too, so that they stood in front of each other with both of their hands interlinked.

“It's for the best,” Akechi said, softly. “This is the only way the Phantom Thieves can possibly be excused. I am the perpetrator of all those incidences of people going berserk. The law can't simply overlook that.” He paused, then added, quietly, “I can't simply overlook that.”

“You're repenting for it now, aren't you?” said Akira, urgency and frustration lacing his voice. “You've learned. You've changed. There has to be something...”

Akechi shook his head. Put a finger to Akira's lips. “There is nothing. I'm sorry, Kurusu. This is the way it has to be.”

Akira growled, nipped at Akechi's finger. Akechi yelped and sharply withdrew his hand to his chest.

“Stop that,” Akira said. “Calling me _Kurusu_. I thought we were past that.”

Akechi glared a moment before smiling his sweetest, most sinister smile. “Akira, then.”

Akira grinned a small, smug grin. Akechi reached over and pinched both of his already bright red cheeks and pulled them, effectively wiping the shit-eating grin off of Akira's face. He chuckled to himself at the baffled look Akira gave him.

“Anyway,” said Akechi, “let's not talk about grim things now. The day is too beautiful for that. Besides, I fail to see what you value about me, anyway. It's not as though I ever contributed anything meaningful to your life.”

Again, Akira twisted his bangs between his fingers.

“I dunno,” he muttered, his cheeks reddening even more, if that was possible at all. “There's something about you...”

Akechi couldn't handle it when Akira looked at him like that. Vulnerable. Shy. It was so unlike him, Akechi didn't know what to do with it. He couldn't imagine ever making someone react so genuinely like that, the way he himself reacted whenever Akira Kurusu so much as looked in his direction. He put one hand directly over Akira's face and covered his own face with his other hand.

“No,” he said. “Stop. Don't...don't look at me like that. I'm...”

Akira reached up and took Akechi's hand in both of his. “We can run away,” he uttered urgently. “The two of us. Futaba said she knows a way to get us out of the country...”

Akechi shook his head. “And where would that leave your friends? Implicated in all the trouble I caused. I'm afraid your plan isn't very well thought out.”

“Then we'll do what Futaba suggested first. Tell Sae that you were threatened, that Shido threatened you. He brought false charges against me. There's no saying what he might have done to you. That's what Sae wants to hear, anyway. So let's just give her what she's waiting for.”

Akechi sighed. Brushed stray bangs out of Akira's face and tucked them into the hem of his hat. He leaned forward and gently, gently kissed Akira on the lips. Akira leaned into him, gripped him by the elbows and pulled him even closer. When his tongue flickered over Akechi's bottom lip, Akechi opened his mouth and let him in. Their breaths mixed hot, especially so in the cold air, and Akechi felt much too warm despite how under-dressed he was for the weather. When Akira's hands cupped his face, when his hands slid through his hair, Akechi thought his heart would burst straight out of his chest. He felt Akira's heart, too, pounding rough against him. How sweet it all was. So, so painfully sweet.

Akechi pulled away, gasping in the cold, and still Akira pushed their foreheads together to stare into Akechi's eyes. Akechi looked away, unable to confront the sudden ache tearing through him. He would give up all this, just for some inflated sense of justice?

He knew the answer before he asked the question. Of course he would. It was the last part of him that meant anything at all, the last part of him that Akira could possibly love. If he gave up that element of himself, what would be left of him? He'd be nothing but a coward, running away from his own mistakes. He couldn't face Akira like that. He wouldn't.

“I love you, Goro,” Akira murmured against Akechi's lips. “I love you. I don't want to be without you.”

“But you can,” Akechi answered, quietly, quietly. “And you will. You'll live a good life, and you'll forget me in time. You have to forget me. Promise me?”

Akira shook his head, brushed his thumb over Akechi's cheek. “I'm not promising that.”

“Please.”

“No.”

“For me.”

Akira bit down on his own lip and swallowed hard. He nuzzled at Akechi, taking in a deep breath as if with it, he could hold Akechi inside of him. He kissed Akechi again, and again, and again. There was really nothing else he could do. Akechi wouldn't back down, and they both knew it. Squeezing his eyes shut, Akira finally nodded, once. Akechi smiled and kissed his cheek.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

Akira swept Akechi up in a tight hug, startling a yelp out of him. Over Akira's shoulder, Akechi spotted another young couple in the distance, openly staring at them. Akechi bristled and started pounding on Akira's back.

“Put me down. Akira, there are people, put me down!”

“Not until you say you love me.”

“Akira!”

“I wanna hear you say it.”

Akechi shook his head frantically and flailed his feet. How the hell was Akira's grip so strong?

“Say you love me,” Akira insisted.

The couple were getting closer and closer, albeit walking at a slow, uncertain pace. Akechi could almost make eye-contact with them if he wanted to. He absolutely did not want to.

“Fine,” he yelped, “fine! I love you! Now put me down!”

He could just hear the grin in Akira's voice when he said, “Say it again.”

“You're a bastard, you know that?”

“Say it like you mean it.”

Akechi took a few deep breaths to still the anger bubbling up inside of him. He let out one long breath and, wrapping his arms around Akira's neck to return the hug, murmured low and sweet, “I love you, Akira Kurusu.”

Akira's arms stiffened around him. He set Akechi down, slowly, and held him at arm's length, looking at him with wide eyes. Akechi pouted.

“Why do you look so surprised?”

“I didn't expect you to actually say it.”

Now Akechi was really angry. He lightly punched Akira's shoulder, scowling.

“What do you mean you didn't expect me to say it? What did you think I would do?”

“I was gonna put you down eventually...”

“You're the worst.”

The couple were nearly upon them now. Akechi took a giant step back, putting what he felt was an appropriate amount of distance between himself and Akira, and waited for the pair to pass. They ducked their heads when they walked by, and Akechi was sure they'd seen the fiasco that was Akechi tangled up in Akira's arms. He hung his head and hid his face in his hands.

“You're overreacting,” Akira pointed out helpfully.

Instead of answering, Akechi glared at him through his fingers. He wanted to wring Akira's neck. He wanted to slap the glasses off of Akira's face. He wanted to...he wanted to...

He didn't have time to work out what he wanted to do, because Akira closed the distance between them and lightly placed a kiss on Akechi's forehead. Akechi's mind went blank after that. Only his heart, thumping away with wild abandon, made any sound.

“It's cold,” Akira said, taking Akechi's hand again. “We should head back to Leblanc.”

Placated for the time being, Akechi pursed his lips together and nodded.

Deep inside though, he shook, and he shook. What scared him, what made his stomach twist in sick knots, was that he'd said those words to Akira, said them and meant them, and Akira had heard. The words scared him because, no matter what Akira might want, he wouldn't be able to keep them. They would be meaningless once Akechi was in prison.

He kept quiet the entire way back to Leblanc, and when they arrived, he excused himself for home. Akira gave him one last peck, but this time, Akechi did not kiss back. He turned away without saying anything, arms wrapped around himself to stave off the cold that was finally, finally becoming too much to bear.

You can't keep him, he thought helplessly, bitterly, gritting his teeth against the ache in his chest. Let him go. Let him go.

He tensed up and stopped walking as low, dark laughter echoed in his head.

 


End file.
